IT HAS BEEN A LONG TIME AND I AM SORRY!!!!! I had a lot happen these past few months and wasn't able to write :( (though on the plus side some of the books I was readong on Wattpad have been finished! I'm going to sit down and read them from beginning to end :) !!! ) I'll be honest with you guys, I'm not totally sure how I feel about this installment, but I wanted to get it up so I could move onto the next one. The next one definitely needs some build-up so it doesn't feel totally random. Hopefully this is enough lead-up to make it not feel totally random. If you're confused though, let me know, becuase this is something I'll probably have to go over a few times. Now I'm just going to hit publish before I lose my nerve.
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Sonja
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He stared at the floor, squeezing his arms to his sides as if to make himself smaller. But the Beast was large—too large for the doorframe, too large for the room, too large for anyone to pass by easily even when he tried to be accommodating. On her way out, her shoulder knocked his chest. He parted his lips, but said nothing.
Five rapid footsteps pounded down the hallway before he allowed himself to look up. His grip on the door frame tightened as he watched her retreat. I doubt she looked back even once, and I don’t think he wanted or expected her to.
After she was gone, he lowered his hand and wiped it on his jeans. “Sorry ‘bout that, Sonja.”
Why was he sorry?
“She and I, we’re old friends.”
No. They’re more than that.
My breathing grew ragged. My heartbeat throbbed. Why did this half truth bother me so much? I was a stranger. He owed me nothing—especially not details on his love life. I should’ve let it go, but I couldn’t. “You’re more than just old friends, aren’t you?” My question sounded like an accusation.
“We were a lot closer when we were kids.”
I couldn’t bring myself to ask him just how close they were.
“Spent a few years not talkin’ much to each other, but I see a lot of her now.”
I don’t want to hear this. Nothing good will come from it. I knew it, yet I still asked, “Why is that?”
“She’s with my best friend.”
I stepped back. With. Did that mean…?
“The two of them have been together a long time.”
I swallowed. “Oh.”
“It wasn’t always one-sided, if that’s what you’re thinkin’. But we were young. Things changed.”
What he means is, his face changed.
No. Please, don’t let that be it.
But it was. It had to be. The Beast hadn’t always looked like this. Sure, he’d probably always been disconcertingly tall and not much to look at, but he hadn’t been like this—a being so ugly that some cruel part of you preferred to think of him as being born like that just so you wouldn’t have to acknowledge a person could change so much.
Charlie had known him before he was like this, hadn’t she? Her burn scars mirrored his, albeit on a comparatively insignificant scale. Even if it was just a coincidence, there was a story there. Every time she looked at him, she probably saw what she might’ve become. And every time he looked at her, he probably remembered what life had been like before.
How do you compete with that?
You don’t.
You can’t.
“Shit, don’t look at me like that,” he whispered.
I took another step back. How was I looking at him? No, wait. I didn’t want to know.
He advanced. “Tell me what you’re thinkin’ ‘bout?”
My legs wobbled. “I’m just surprised.” Actually, I was furious. At her for leaving him. At him for forgiving her. She had a key to his room; even after all she did to him, she was always welcome. It hadn’t always been one-sided, which meant it was now one-sided.
I hated that most of all.
“I was mad at both of them for a long time,” he continued.
Oh, I bet you were. I wish you still were.
“During that time, and I did a lot of things I wish I didn’t do.”
Was he really going to tell me all about his past regrets? The ones she’d inadvertently caused? And would he try to absolve her of any guilt, hoarding all the blame for himself?
I didn’t realize I was still retreating until the backs of my knees hit his bed. I sat. Collected the excess fabric of my baggy jeans into my little fists.
The mattress dipped as he lowered himself next to me. He rested his hand on the mattress, almost close enough to touch. He was too aware of my body—it made me too aware of his.
“I’m sorry if Charlie upset you. She didn’t mean it.”
Oh, she meant it. That bitch knew exactly what she was doing. “Why do you keep apologizing for her?”
“It’s the only thing I can think of doin’ when you look like you do right now,” he whispered. “I hate it.”
“You hate what?”
“Upsetting you.”
I let go of my jeans. My hands slid down the sides of my thighs until my fingertips brushed his knuckles.
“She doesn’t bother me.”
“What’s botherin’ you, then?”
You. And all these things I don’t want to feel when I look at you.
He leaned in until I could smell the hint of smoke clinging to his shirt. “Please, Sonja.”
“I don’t think you want to hear it.” And I don’t want to say it.
“Then I really do. Those are the things you gotta tell somebody. They’ll eat you alive if you don’t.”
I shut my eyes. “Why do you say things like this?”
“Things like what?”
Things that make me forget myself. Things that make me feel things I don’t want to feel. Things that make me long for things I have no right to ask for.
He ran his large fingertips up and down my spine. Gentle. Reassuring. And though it sounds strange, I had difficulty differentiating his touch from the gentle, reassuring tone of his voice.
“It’s okay,” the Beast whispered. “No one’s gonna hurt you.”
But I might hurt you. If you could hear my thoughts right now, you wouldn’t be touching me like this.
“You can tell me. I’m not gonna judge you.”
But he should judge me. I’d taken advantage of him once. At any moment, I could do it again.
I leaned into his hand.
His arm stiffened. He held his breath.
I moaned and arched my back, imagining his rough fingers gliding down my naked spine. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his nose flare. He was imagining the same thing.
The Beast might not dream of me, but he wanted something I could give him. In fact, I was probably the only woman alive who would willingly give it to him, and so he’d thank me for it even if my reasons were selfish. He’d be faithful and patient and kind, and if he looked at another woman…well, it would only be one, and the things he dreamed of with her wouldn’t be possible. That was more than I’d ever had before. I shouldn’t want more.
But I did.
I’d told myself I didn’t want love. Not its shameful desires, or sweet obsessions, or cruel secrets. I’d wanted a new life. To be a better person. So I’d promised myself I wouldn’t love again. In a way, I’d kept that promise, for what I wanted from the Beast wasn’t love.
It was so much worse.
“Remove your eyepatch,” I said.
“What?”
“Take it off.”
He hesitated.
I softened my tone. “Please.”
He nodded. “Alright.”
My back cooled when his hand left it. Shivering, I watched him slide his thumb under the strap until it snapped off. He turned his cheek, hiding his empty eye socket from me. “I’ve got an eye in the drawer. If you give me a moment—”
“Don’t.”
He went still.
I brought my hand to his far cheek. It looked like fossilized silly putty but felt warm and oddly spongy. Gently, I guided his head so it faced mine. He didn’t resist, but kept his lids heavy so I couldn’t see his eyes.
“What are you doing, Sonja?”
My fingers dug further into that stringy, sticky skin. What was I doing? Even I didn’t know, exactly. I only knew I didn’t want his obedience or kindness. I wanted the part of him that felt, that was weak, that dreamed. I wanted him to look at me the same way he looked at her. I’d do anything to make him look at me like that.
Yes. Anything.
Another chill rushed through me. You can’t really mean that. You wouldn’t do anything. But I knew I would. Maybe it was because my limits had been so casually breeched that I thought nothing of breaking past his now. Or maybe Alexander had been right all along—I, like him, was born a monster.
“Sonja.”
I shivered. The way he said my name…it made me believe I truly was Sonja and never had been anyone else. “What if I wanted you?”
“I already told you I wasn’t gonna do that. I’m not doin’ this for that.”
He sounded so sincere my heart ached. This isn’t for you, don’t you understand? If it was for you, I would let you go. I wouldn’t push harder, hold on tighter.
If I were a better person, I would have told him those things. Instead, I slid my hand down his cheek, neck, and arm until I captured his wrist. “I want to take a part of you for myself. A part no one else has.” I stroked the underside of his wrist. “I’d give you something of myself, too, of course.”
“What’re you gettin’ at?”
I looked up, eyelids heavy, lips cracked and dry. “Do you really not know, or are you just pretending?”
He gulped.
When he still didn’t answer, I dug my thumbnail into his wrist. His pulse quickened. “I can be clearer, if you want.”
“This isn’t a good idea.”
“But you want it, don’t you?”
His throat made a choking sound.
Again, he didn’t resist as I brought his hand to my mouth. I ran my tongue down up center of his palm. His life line, I think it was. Or maybe his love line. I could barely remember any of the superstitions I’d picked up from that gypsy—strange, because I’d once found them so significant.
“Even if it’s wrong, you still want this, right?” I took his middle finger between my lips and sucked gently. “Maybe you want so bad because it’s wrong.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why? Because it’s true?”
He moved too quickly for me to react. One moment, my tongue was swirling around the bitten-down fingernails. The next, his fingers were knotted in my hair. His thumbs pushed my cheeks into my teeth. His mouth was centimeters from mine like he was going to kiss me. For one horrific second, I thought he would kiss me.
Instead, he rested his forehead on mine. “Why you gotta go and do this, Sonja?”
“You really want to discuss my reasons right now when there are other—”
“Yeah,” he cut me off. “I do.”
My throat feels tight, like a hand is closing around it, but there’s nothing there. “Why?” Why do you have to care? Why can’t you just take what I’m offering you? Your desire to fuck me is so suffocating it’s like you’re already inside me.
“I wanna be better with you, but fuck, Sonja. You keep doin’ this shit, I’m not gonna be able to hold back anymore.”
“Then don’t.”
His hands started to shake. “You don’t know what you’re askin’. You don’t know what you do to me. What this means to me.”
But I did know, and that was why I was doing it.
Men didn’t love whores. What they felt for us was something else, something deeper. People wanted the freedom to be themselves without shame. And in a world where we’re all too sick and dark to ever be ourselves with anyone—especially those we love—the only way to get that freedom was to pay for it.
If pleasure were a cage, truth was the key; if a man could be completely honest with you, he’d give you that key willingly. It didn’t matter if he loved you or not. You wouldn’t even have to ask for it.
The Beast would never love me, and I was incapable of loving anyone. Still, we each had something the other wanted.
He wanted to be looked at, and I wanted to be seen.
He wanted to be human, and I wanted to be Sonja.
I was learning very quickly that Sonja wasn’t the perfect, pure girl I’d imagined for all those years. In fact, she wanted things more deeply than Bella ever had. Bella’s world was simple and focused only on survival. Sonja was angry. She wanted to conquer. It wasn’t enough to have the Beast; she wanted to consume him, too. And since someone had already claimed his heart, she’d take the only thing that could compete with his love: His dreams.
I put my hands on his chest, pushing myself up onto my feet and out of his grasp. “I want you.” So much that I’d do anything to make you look at me the way you look at her. Anything.
Both of us are breathless as I stand over him. Was this the true meaning of what Alexander had said the first night he came to me? It’s okay to hate me. I’d thought it’d been a declaration of love, but maybe Alexander was trying to preemptively absolve himself of guilt. Hatred was a form of punishment, and what form did justice ever take but punishment?
Well, I wasn’t as noble as Alexander. If I were, I’d repeat those same words to him right now. It’s okay to hate me for making you feel things you don’t want to feel, for taking things you don’t want to give, for using your own dreams against you. Instead, I push him onto his back.